#but nonetheless! tada! tattoos!

[holocene-sims]

i love it ❣️

alternate caption: adventures in alpha hair

[moonsugar-and-spice]

🌧️19 for TaDa, if you'll entertain OCs?

Of course! I am always happy to write the OCs. 😊

Apologies up front, this one really broke the leash and got away from me. I hope you enjoy it nonetheless!

🌧️19: "I see, you have a different word for killing when you wear a special uniform to do it."

(Or what I call, the tale of a drabble that wanted to be more)

Send me a prompt and a pairing

-----

A large mirror hung crooked in her borrowed cabin. It rasped against the hull wall as the ship swayed, its edges fogged and tarnished, and as the soldier began to loosen the sash of her long olive tunic, she found her gaze in the glass, wincing a little.

Ta Ming was thirty-one. Thirty-one, and every one of her years felt carved into her. She combed long fingers through her russet hair, loosed early from its usual braid, the shorter locks at the sides scraping her jaw. She fingered the skin under her eyes, tugged at her cheeks and the scar that pocked one arch, ran a finger along her lips. No one had ever been known to call her beautiful.

Not that Ta Ming cared to be beautiful, not really. Beautiful wouldn’t serve her well. She would much rather be called strong or honorable or self-sufficient. Much rather known for the merits of her skills and the content of her character than something so shallow and fleeting.

The thoughts carried her back to the banquet they had attended last night, soldier and pirate playing the parts of courtly Seong and Min Su respectively, the names on their forged invitations.

Looking the part hadn’t been so difficult. With her mixed heritage she could pass for Earth Kingdom adequately well. And with the pirate’s flashier adornments removed, his rings and earrings, the long silk sleeves and collar concealing most of his tattoos, the guests looked — perhaps stared or whispered — but saw one of them. No matter how Lu Da might choose to align his allegiances, the one thing he could never outrun was the unmistakable evidence of his descent.

The gala had been nothing compared to the opulence and glittering wealth enjoyed by Fire Nation dignitaries, but a relatively lavish affair nonetheless, graced by several higher-ranking officials. One of whom in particular, according to their sources, was privy to valuable political knowledge that, if gleaned, could be a major tipping point in the war.

This part of the mission had taken considerably more care. While Ta Ming knew how to adapt when duty required, Lu Da knew how to transform. His brawn and appearance were an easy tool of intimidation, one she had seen him use well. Yet, while mingling with the nobles and dignitaries, the man had not only been suave but seemed remarkably at ease in polite society, as if there weren’t a soaring staircase of difference in their stations. Witty, charming, while also authoritative, a skill that sometimes served to wheedle out valuable bits of information.

And once again, luckily, it had.

But by Agni, she would never envy the beautiful ladies with their fluttering silk dresses and meticulously coiffed hair, their falsetto laughs and sweeping lashes and the ridiculous way they used them. How they swooned and fawned and leaned on men, feigning helplessness to bask in their strength.

Why anyone would ever want to be seen as helpless was beyond her.

The whole affair had left her tired — to say nothing of what these long days in the company of pirates had done to her — and though it wasn’t quite sundown, one night of sleep had not, apparently, been enough to wash it away.

She was glad to be headed back toward Fire Nation soil, even if it would be days yet before her feet would touch it, before she could slip back into her proper uniform. Or anything that wasn’t so infernally earth-toned.

So, she was less glad when there came the tell-tale pull of the ship beginning to slow, too soon. It was not yet near dusk, there were still precious miles to cover.

What was Lu Da doing now?

Turning, she took one long stride toward the door and stopped short, finding the captain already filling its frame, leaning against one side. Lu Da gave a languorous, belated rap on the door, mischief brewing in his warm brown eyes, and Ta Ming tried to keep the apprehension, the impatience from rising in her tone.

“Why are we slowing down? Isn’t there still an hour or two before visibility diminishes?”

“There is. But, so happens I’m well-acquainted with this slice of the Earth Kingdom, and the harbor city up ahead. Know a good place we can shake off our sea legs for a bit. Whatd’ya say? Up for a pleasant evening?”

Define pleasant, she thought, but only said, “We were just out last night.”

“That was business, it hardly counts.”

Ta Ming blew out her breath, not quite a sigh, and turned back to the mirror. Their gazes touched again in the glass for the briefest of moments before she stepped out of reach, winding her loose hair over one shoulder. “I’m not dressed for it—”

“You’re dressed fine enough. If you need someone to braid your hair, Marik’s got some practice.”

That caught her between a scoff and a laugh, unsure whether he was joking. Sometimes she couldn’t tell.

“Frankly, I was about to go to bed. I'm still nursing a headache from last night.” He didn’t respond, and for a long moment it was quiet. But she could still feel him in the doorway, the steady press of his gaze. She turned around to face him. “If you’re so determined, why not just go on without me?”

“And risk you stealing my Mistress, leaving me stranded, depriving me forevermore of your company? Don’t think so.”

She snorted. In truth, they both knew she would never stay back, not when the Fire Lord had tasked her as his second. If anything were to go awry while she was there to help ensure it didn’t, the punishment would be greater than the discomfort of anything the night might have to offer.

A few lights were beginning to glimmer from vessels in the harbor, the buildings scattered along the dock. The sunset had drained the day’s heat away and the tepid salt air filled her lungs.

“This hardly seems like a good idea,” she pressed, her Fire Nation sword secured within the loose folds of her tunic. “I imagine some things may be different since you were last here.”

But Lu Da was already off, heading away from the harbor, in the opposite direction from his crew. Ta Ming was fairly certain Ozai had not authorized this stop, which added unnecessary risk to the mission. There were too many things that could go wrong before they reached home. But she had known the pirate now — or privateer, as it were — long enough to know that arguing when he got that glint in his eyes was futile. It would only be for a few hours. At least she could act as sentry, another set of eyes and muscle if trouble were to stir.

Falling into resigned step beside him, she asked, “Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise.” There was a decidedly rakish hint to his tone.

“Pirate King,” Ta Ming warned, who had never been fond of surprises, but had come to hate them even more.

“Fear not, soldier. I promised you a pleasant evening out, and I aim to deliver.”

+++

She hated the place the moment they entered.

It was called Solstice.

It would have been more aptly called Gaudy, or Garish, droningly loud and noxiously colorful, with more shades of green than she had ever wished to know existed. Solstice, Lu Da had told her as they arrived, was a leisure establishment, the connections he had with the owner sure to get them through the doors, in a place reserved for the more fortunate to savor an escape.

Beyond the bronze-plated doors, the cool night evaporated and submerged them in the warmth of a summer day. Lanterns burned sun-bright overhead, artificial foliage wreathing an indoor gazebo that veiled everyone beneath in a dappled, virescent canopy. It might have vaguely put her in mind of home, except for the churning sea of people who reminded her where she was, and ushered into the expansive, well-lit venue, Ta Ming felt suddenly, dreadfully, exposed.

“Are you out of your mind?” she hissed, just loud enough for his ears. “We are noticeably underdressed, the last thing we need is to draw attention or cause a scene.”

But most patrons seemed too absorbed in their pleasantries to pay them much mind, and if the guards at the door had recognized Lu Da, an impassive nod was all the recognition he received as they were let inside.

Serving tables offered up fruits and cakes, meats and dumplings, pitchers of chilled summer saké. Beads and tassels or fresh flowers adorned women’s hairpieces. Couples danced or necked in quieter corners, others lounging on pillows beneath the fake trees. Windchimes and laughter spun in the air, that high, bright laughter of nobility as they preened and postured and toasted to the latest gossip, their status on display.

Ta Ming found it sufferable. The whole charade was far too flamboyant, too frivolous, to leave any room for appeal. Much of their country was war-torn and suffering, and yet in places like this, the privileged could still fashion Shangri-Las out of money and play pretend. At least until the war caught up to them, which inevitably, it would.

With a lazy nudge at her back he led her forward, past a serving table, where Lu Da took up two cups of summer saké, pressing one into her hand. Ta Ming kept her face tipped down as she sipped, surveying the room over the rim of the cup.

The pirate steered them to a set of plush cushions beneath a tree, sinking down as Ta Ming followed suit. She took sips of her drink, bright and dry and smooth as glass on her tongue, and having little interest in the rest of Solstice, she considered her companion.

The soldier still didn’t understand his choice of entertainment. This place was clearly a haunt for the well-heeled, and despite how comfortable he might act in their presence, tonight looks were a harder sell. Between the mohawk and the abundant tattoos and rings on display, he stood out among them like a sheet of granite thrust up amidst the softer strata. Had he not had his fill of their kind last night? She didn’t think he was all that fond of it. Not only that, but he had brought them here knowingly underdressed—

“Am I really that good-looking?” he asked without meeting her gaze, pulling her focus apart, while glassy laughter chimed through the room.

The soldier scoffed, cursing the regrettable heat rising to her face. “You think you are, I doubt it matters what I think,” she responded, homing her attention on the grassy carpet beneath her feet.

No one approached them save for an attendant, a pretty, young woman in a pale green and yellow qipao. There was a halting quality to her eyes as they brushed over the captain, and she asked if there was anything she could do to make their evening more enjoyable. Lu Da brandished his smile, an answer in the vein of “You already have” serving both to disarm and dismiss, and earn him a bashful smile before bowing her leave. Ta Ming stifled a groan and rolled her eyes.

“This would be a great deal more fun,” remarked Lu Da, “if you’d stop frowning at everything.”

The press of her lips tightened before she caught herself, smoothing her brow. “I’m not frowning.”

“Is it a sport in the Fire Nation?” he went on. “Do they hold contests, hand out awards for the best—?”

“Would you be quiet. We don’t need anyone suspecting I’m…” She cut herself off, her eyes darting askance and then down. “Besides, I’m not frowning.”

“Sulking then.”

“I am perfectly content at the moment.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“Well,” he toasted, raising his glass, “glad I took us here then, we can stay all night if you like.”

Ta Ming set her teeth, then took several long, merciful gulps of her drink. She could feel his eyes on her, amused, and at the end she wiped a bead of saké from her lips, placing her empty cup on the low wooden table. “Alright, fine, this place is horrible,” she grumbled.

“Well…” said Lu Da, draining his own cup in one go and setting it down with a thunk, “I suppose we could leave.”

And there it was again, in the pirate’s eye, that glint, and Ta Ming finally understood why he hadn’t bothered with nicer attire. Lu Da hadn’t dressed them for Solstice because it wasn’t their real destination.

“You brought me here on purpose.”

A languid smile, warping the tattoos on his face slightly. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“You brought me here because you knew I would be miserable and eager to accompany you somewhere else, that anything after this would be palatable by comparison.”

“And?”

“And you’re about to learn the depths of my capacity for suffering,” she said, reluctant to know what he thought she’d find so disagreeable that he’d use Solstice as a cushion. Even so, Ta Ming could feel the fight leaching out of her.

Lu Da must have felt it, too. With that signature grin, he rose to his feet. “Excellent. Then I imagine you’ll have plenty of reserves to fall back on.” His collection of rings caught the light as he offered down a hand. “Shall we?”

+++

Most of the sea birds had gone to roost, the townspeople either home or engaged in leisure pursuits, and the night now was filled only with the distant sigh of waves or snatches of conversation carried on the wind.

Ta Ming drank deep of the cool briny air, letting it wash over her. It was a long walk to wherever they were headed, and a rare but comfortable moment of quiet between them; she found both to be much-welcome.

Darkness was complete by the time they passed into the rougher part of the city. Buildings etched a patchy silhouette into the sky like broken teeth. Street lanterns grew fewer and farther between, a weak glow glancing off Lu Da's ear cuffs whenever they passed underneath.

He led her through an alley and around a corner, finally stopping before a truly shoddy-looking tavern. Warm light leaked onto the street through grime-clouded windows.

And then, she saw it. The sign above the paint-peeling door, engraved with the likeness of a willow and its curtains of drooping branches. Bold characters boasted the tavern’s name at the top.

Ta Ming read it aloud.

“The Mourning Wood…” Punctuating each word, she turned to him with a wry, tart twist of her mouth.

“Named for the distinguished weeping willow tree, as evidenced by the sign, soldier. You really oughta get your mind out of the gutter.”

Her disapproval deepened as he opened the door, extending an arm in what might have been a gentlemanly After you, were it not for the roguish smirk on his face.

Inside, it was every bit what she’d expected from the outside: seedy as all fuck, and the crowd, too. The place smelled headily of sea and sweat and spilled liquor, mingling with the aroma of what was probably food. Where Solstice had been ostentatious and open, all bright lights and vivid colors, the Mourning Wood was made of murky corners and low-burning lanterns. Booths and tables were sprawled like bodies across the room, occupied by all manner of men who left no speculation to their less than honorable livelihoods.

At least this place was honest with itself, thought Ta Ming. No pageantry. No charades.

The air was thick with smoke and loud with raucous laughter and drunken threats. At their entrance, Rizo waved them over, his face lit up not only in cheerful recognition, but with the knowing glint of a shared joke.

These Agni-damned pirates.

As they reached the cluster of pushed-together tables, Lu Da was swept away toward the other end of the brigade in a wave of enthusiastic greetings, leaving her at the only remaining seat, next to Marik. He turned as she slid into the chair, saluting her with his almost-smiling nod and a tip of his tankard. There was a strangely quieting effect to his understated, more subdued presence, and Ta Ming felt something uncoil just slightly. She returned his acknowledgment with a small smile and a nod.

A generous tankard of baijiu was set before her and the soldier drank half of it in one continuous gulp, relishing the tingle and the swiftly brewing buzz. A handful of approving whoops and hollers rang up from the table.

Time slowly evaporated, minutes and hours blending in a haze of gambling and brawls and storytelling. At the other end of the table, Ta Ming watched Lu Da boast and cheer and drink with the rest of them, and marveled at the way he could shift to fit his needs. Last night, smooth and silver-tongued, he had a hall of nobles convinced he was Min Su. Back on the Mistress, he was dashing captain and king. But here, in this tavern, surrounded by his crew and the colorful array of rabble, he was simply one of them. Always with a presence that commanded the room, always taking up space, but he held himself no higher than the rest.

He could crack rude jokes and pull pranks, then turn around and coax a blush from an unsuspecting maiden with a word and a smile. Jhu Lin once said he could charm the dudou off a nun. So much about the man was performance of one form or another, that Ta Ming sometimes wondered which version of Lu Da was the real one, or if, somehow, they were all real, each in its own way.

This was the Lu Da she knew best, the one that laughed easy and loud, flirted and joked and sloshed his liquor, even though Ta Ming had seen him fuss if ever she spilled water or tea in his cabin. Another facet still. Gregarious as he was, it was the one place, she’d gathered from Rizo and Marik, that he kept for himself. Rare for their captain to bring someone outside into that protected space, even on nights with more intimate company. The soldier tried not to think too hard about all that it might mean, that she had been afforded the privilege.

A stranger on her other side jostled her with an elbow, clinking his mug against hers at a joke’s bawdy punchline. And in spite of herself, Ta Ming felt an echo of his smile tug at her lips, too, just as Lu Da’s gaze found hers from across the table. The moment seemed to narrow to just the two of them, that ineffable space between words and a look. With a final quip and a slap to his neighbor’s shoulder, he excused himself, the chair scraping as he stood and walked around to her side of the table.

“Marik making sure you behave?” he asked as she rose to meet him. The man in question raised his tankard, as if to a feat worthy of commendation.

She chuffed a quiet breath of amusement through her nose. Jutting his chin in the direction of a booth outside the mob, Lu Da said, “C’mon, let’s get a bite to eat, I’m starving.”

+++

They ordered the “clam hammer” — a bowl of steamed mollusks with a spiced dipping sauce — and a basket of crab puffs to share.

“It was all Rizo’s idea, by the way,” Lu Da said around a mouthful. “I didn’t wanna go along with it.”

“Is that so?” She washed her own bite down with a swig of baijiu. “Somehow I don’t believe you.”

“What? I thought you believed everything you were told like a good little soldier.”

Ta Ming scoffed. “I don’t believe your nose would stand up to my fist.”

“Fair enough, I don’t believe that either. But, as I happen to be a pirate of some repute and your colleague — dare I say, friend? — I also don’t believe you’d hit me. Besides, if I recall, isn’t there something you’re here to be doing?”

“Assisting you.”

“Oh, that’s right.”

She rolled her eyes, but the crease at the corner of her mouth betrayed the small bubble of lightness expanding in her chest. Maybe, she could admit to herself, she wasn’t having a completely terrible time.

As she ate and looked around the tavern, her gaze snagged on a pair of men lurking in the gloom of a corner, closest to the door. Something about the way they hung there — watching them? — plucked at her soldier’s instincts.

Lu Da must have noticed. He followed her line of sight.

“Why are those men looking at us like that?” she asked quietly.

The pirate shrugged one shoulder, but he didn’t take his eyes off them. “Probably don’t get a lot of women in here is all.”

“Do you know them?”

He looked ready to respond in the negative when the first two parted, revealing a third man behind, and Lu Da blinked.

“Chenfang,” he said by way of greeting.

“Lu Da,” the man returned, quite pleasantly, as the three sauntered up to their booth. “Thought that was you we saw leaving Solstice a bit ago. Been a long time.”

“That it has. Didn’t know you stuck around here.”

A flicker behind the man’s eyes. “Well, you know. Some of us like to grow roots in just one soil.” Ta Ming caught the almost imperceptible feint in Lu Da’s expression as he shifted to lean against the table. “Gotta say, I was a little surprised when I recognized those tattoos. Didn’t think I’d see you back in these parts again, just muckin’ around like old times.”

Something wasn’t right. Chenfang’s tone was light enough, but there was a poorly concealed edge to it, like a razor buried in a moonpeach.

Lu Da slipped her a surreptitious glance across the booth.

“Call me sentimental, I guess,” he shrugged, looking up at him. “Was on an excursion with a friend and passing by, couldn’t resist the opportunity.”

“Mm, isn’t that nice,” Chenfang drawled, glancing from one of his comrades to the other and then back at Lu Da. “On holiday with a buddy, just showing her around some of your old stomping grounds, huh?”

Lu Da set his drink down, the edges of his easy smile tightening. “That’s right.”

A bead of condensation slid like sweat down the side of the tankard, tracing its way toward the scarred wooden table.

“Say…” Chenfang sniffed the air, looking to the man on his right. “Do you smell something?”

“Matter of fact, I do,” he responded, gruff. “It’s a very particular scent, one you never forget.”

“It sure is. It’s the smell of bullshit.” The word rang through the fog of drunken laughter and voices, bringing the din of the tavern to a murmur. “I remember clearly, getting wind of it a while back. You’ve become the Fire Lord’s little stooge, haven’t you?” The brawn of Lu Da’s arms tightened, a muscle twitching in his jaw. “Oh yeah, good news spreads far and wide, doesn’t it?”

“Look…” He held up both hands in a show of comradery. “You gotta understand how things go in my line of work. My fealty’s bought by the highest bidder, but that’s all there is to it. I’m—”

“All there is to it?!” he roared, anger and something deeper bursting in his face. “You got a lot of fucking nerve coming around here all free and easy, like you’re still one of ours, like some of us don’t know exactly whose ass you’re kissing now, while playin’ footsie with one of his minions.”

A dart of outrage pricked between her ribs, along with a seed of alarm. How did he know who she was?

“Doing the Fire Lord’s bidding, bathing in his money, while they lay siege to your motherland. Your friend here, how many of your own do you reckon she’s slaughtered?”

“Don’t speak as if I revel in it,” Ta Ming spat, nursing the flame of her anger. Anger was better than the panic that pulsed just beneath it. “A soldier is bound by duty—”

“Duty. Oh, how nice it sounds when you put it that way.” He barked a short and scornful laugh. “Does it help you sleep better at night? Coat that pesky conscience so you can swallow it, shit it out in the morning, and do it all again?”

The chair ground harshly, one of the men inching back as Lu Da stood. “Alright, back off—”

“And I wonder just how many of ours you’ve slain now in the name of duty.” His ire scorched a path between the soldier and the pirate, a ripple of dismay spreading through the tavern. “Cute, how there’s a different word for killing when you wear a special uniform to do it. Or when someone pays you to do it.”

There was the slower, quieter grating of chairs and the whisper of movement as others began to stand, eyes shifting, hands ghosting over weapons. Lu Da scanned the room, some of his acquaintances staring with flared nostrils and trembling fists, others eyeing the scene with growing tension. His crew locked eyes with their captain, poised and ready for a signal.

Chenfang’s voice, when it shivered the silence, was hoarse and heavy as gravel. “You're one of my oldest friends, Lu, we go back a long way. So just this once, I’m gonna give you the chance to get your dirty, traitorous ass outta town, and take your girlfriend with you, before I show you the special word I got for it. And if I ever see your faces larking about here again… on my life, it’ll be the last thing you do.”

For several beats, nobody moved an inch, primed for sudden action. But at last, Lu Da gave the barest of nods and his crew began prowling toward the exit. Hand on her hilt, Ta Ming followed alongside him as they filed out, and the privateer stopped momentarily in the doorway behind her.

He looked back once, locking eyes with his old friend.

“Nice seeing you, Lu Da.”

[whiskynottea]

How do you headcanon Rachel and Young Ian falling for each other? Much of it happens 'off-screen' in the books

I love this question @ianmuyrray because I really love Ian and Rachel (as you very well know)! 

So, what I need is a close up on them in this scene in Echo:

Miss Rachel Hunter’s voice, surprised and questioning—a man’s reply, low-voiced and husky. A familiar voice—Ian Murray!

They first meet when Ian takes William to the Hunters, to tend his wounds. And then he returns to bring a horse for William. 

Ian: Murray’s tall figure was visible at the edge of the dooryard, gaunt in buckskins, the huge dog at his side.

Rachel: Rachel Hunter was leading it around the house, her apron and petticoats aswirl in the rising wind, one hand on her cap to keep it in place.

I think they both found each other intriguing. A Quaker and an Indian, so different from each other...

Also, for some reason, when Rachel goes back to give William the letter and the package, this happens: He glanced up at Rachel Hunter, who looked away, chin high, but with color rising in her cheeks. He cocked an eyebrow at her, then bent his attention to the packet.

Why is the colour rising in her cheeks? Does this have to do with something Ian told her? Where is this conversation? Because I’m sure that Ian said something funny down there!

Anyway. Ian goes to find Emily after Fort Ticonderoga (Why then? Did he want to clear things up because he met Rachel? Am I delusional? I don’t think so because when he returns to Fort Ticonderoga he thinks: he would like to see Rachel Hunter again sometime) and then he meets Rachel again at the Continental Camp, where they fall for each other, for very different reasons I believe.

Rachel reminds Ian of Claire (healer!), and she’s very, very different from Emily, with her plain speech, the way she’s dressed, etc. She’s also kind, empathetic and assertive and these are traits of both Jenny and Claire, women Ian loves and admires.

On the other hand, Ian stands out with his tattoos and Indian clothes, and he is very different from all the men Rachel has met. He is a wolf and she is the adventurous type (*wiggles eyebrows*). He also earns her respect and gratitude after saving Denzel.

-- Insert here various short, witty remarks between the two of them, and a lot of teasing (“Rollo!” she said, bending down to scratch his ears. “And I see thee’ve brought thy friend along, too.”Ian smiled, lifting the little tin) --

I think we’ve missed a lot of these interactions, or silent moments when they just observed each other. Coming closer. Because then... tada!

She reached to take the tin from him, and her fingers brushed his. The tin box was smeared with the grease and slippery; it fell and both of them bent to retrieve it. She straightened first; her hair brushed his cheek, warm and smelling of her.

Without even thinking, he put both hands on her face and bent to her. Saw the flash and darkening of her eyes, and had one heartbeat, two, of perfect warm happiness, as his lips rested on hers, as his heart rested in her hands.

Then one of those hands cracked against his cheek, and he staggered back like a drunkard startled out of sleep.

“What does thee do?” she whispered. Her eyes wide as saucers, she had backed away, was pressed against the wall of the tent as though to fall through it. “Thee must not!”

He couldn’t find the words to say. His languages boiled in his mind like stew, and he was mute. The first word to surface through the moil in his mind was the Gàidhlig, though.

“Mo chridhe,” he said, and breathed for the first time since he’d touched her. Mohawk came next, deep and visceral. I need you. And tagging belatedly, English, the one best suited to apology. “I—I’m sorry.”

She nodded, jerky as a puppet. “Yes. I—yes.”

He should leave; she was afraid. He knew that. But he knew something else, too. It wasn’t him she was afraid of. Slowly, slowly, he put out a hand to her, the fingers moving without his will, slowly, as though to guddle a trout. And by an expected miracle, but miracle nonetheless, her hand stole out toward his, trembling. 

It seems abrupt, but I think it was slowly built. Ian here made a leap of faith and Rachel responded. She hadn’t expected it, and William expressing his interest for her possibly pushed Ian to act, but it would happen, sooner or later. Ian had acknowledged his feelings for her (he calls her mo chridhe! oh my wee heart), and I think that subconsciously, Rachel knew, too. They were so different, but they felt comfortable with each other and they offered each other a whole world to discover.

Ahhh, I love them so much!

What do you think? What's your headcanon?